


Lamaze

by leiascully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 05:58:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12624714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: Mulder and Scully attend Lamaze class.





	Lamaze

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: S8  
> A/N: From a tumblr prompt.  
> Disclaimer: _The X-Files_ and all related characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Studios. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

This is not the turn he expected his life to take. Or his death, if it comes to that. Throughout his life he has been the prodigal son, never returned, and now he is heaped with miracles he does not know how to hold.

There is only a moment of self-consciousness when Scully first settles herself on the floor and he arranges himself around her. Even now, there is nothing formal about their relationship. All around the room he sees matching rings, left hands banded in gold or silver. Even the two young couples are more confident than he is: “my girlfriend,” a young woman says firmly, arms wrapped around her pregnant partner, and a nervous young man is introduced by another young mother as “my fiancé”. One way or the other, he is the parent of this child, irrespective of its biology, but they haven’t talked about what they are to each other, no titles or promises or even endearments. But she fits between his legs in a way that is at once new and familiar. The new softness of her, the expanded dimensions of her: they make sense in a way that nothing has made sense since he was revised, despite his initial shock at seeing her gravid, heavy with this unexpected child, serene and weeping all at once. 

He puts his hands on her belly and she cups her fingers over his. She leans back into him and he is strong enough to take the weight of her. 

“Breathe,” the instructor commands, gentle but unyielding, and together they breathe, short huffs and long sighs. There is something impossibly intimate about it, this constellation of intensely private connections in this crowded room that smells like yoga mats and lavender oil. His cheek is tucked against her head as he cradles her. He has made his body a shelter for hers before, but this is new and precious. His breath stirs the hair by her ear and she reaches up to smooth down the stray wisps. He catches her fingers in his and kisses her fingertips. She smiles and presses their palms back against the taut swell of her belly. 

“Thank you,” she says, the murmur only his ears can hear. It’s an innocuous enough phrase, but they have always had to make words encompass more than their meanings. 

“We can do this, Scully,” he says, and it’s a promise as formal as any speech dressed up in black and white. 

“Yes,” she says, “we can,” and under their joined hands, he feels the baby kick.


End file.
